


Sandpaper

by wisting



Series: Brothers of War [3]
Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3510005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisting/pseuds/wisting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A letter comes for Anders. Mike opens it. It's not exactly good news. Not for Mike anyway. Olaf makes an appearance. A bit late, but Mike will take anything he can get.</p><p>Or, how the Johnson boys wound up in Auckland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s after a pretty good day that Mike finds it in their letterbox. For a while now things had been looking up. Anders wasn’t being too much of a pain, Axl was getting old enough to help around the house more, Ty wasn’t as shy at school anymore according to his teacher. The apprenticeship was going well; his boss took more and more of a backseat. It meant more work for Mike but also more experience, and clients were beginning to recognise him and pass his name around, not just his boss’s.

But there it is, a letter with a real estate agency’s logo on it. And it’s addressed to Anders.

Mike looks up at Anders’s window. The light’s off; he’s probably out, celebrating like he’s been ever since he graduated. This house and all that’s in it, they’re all his responsibility.

He hesitates for only a moment before he tears the envelope open. 

* * *

Anders comes down the stairs the next day, sleepy-eyed. “Hey,” he says vaguely to Mike, who’s been spending his Saturday morning waiting for Anders to wake up.

“How hungover are you?”

“I’m not. Any leftovers going?”

“Fridge.” Mike watches him as he rummages through the fridge.

“Pasta again? Can’t Ty learn how to cook something else?”

“I made that.”

“You never put enough cheese.”

As Anders shoves a plate in the microwave, Mike tosses the letter on the counter. “You got a letter today.”

Anders stills. “What gives you the right to open my mail?”

“I’m in charge.”

“You read it?”

“Yeah. The other guy fell through, so he wants to know if you still want it.”

“Huh,” says Anders.  


“You’re moving out?”

“Sort of.”

“Where’s this apartment?”

“Stop with the interrogation, Mike. I’m not a child.”

“Anders.”

“I’m nearly nineteen in case you haven’t noticed,” says Anders coolly. “I can make my own life decisions. So quit trying to control our lives. You’re not Dad or Mum.”

“Where’s the apartment?”

“Auckland.”

It’s a bolt out of the blue. Mike sucks in a breath. “Auckland?”

“I’m not going to muck around Hawke’s Bay forever,” Anders says. “I’m not going to be a farmer, I won’t be a builder like you, and there’s no way I’m standing behind a counter for the rest of my life asking people if they want fries with that. I want university. I want to wear a suit and tie and be one of those people who drop twenty dollars on a coffee and a scone. And I’m not going to get that here.”

“When did you decide this?”

“The acceptance package from Auckland University came a couple of days ago.”

“When were you planning to tell m – us? Or were you going to walk out and we’d only know when we found your closet empty?”

“Tonight, actually,” Anders says, and Mike can hear the distance yawning between them. “I _was_ going to celebrate by treating everyone to dinner before I went out on the piss, but if you’re going to be a dick about this then I won’t bother.”

“Right,” says Mike. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

It’s been a long time since Mike’s said sorry, and he won’t start now. Anders can deal without an apology. So instead he says, “Where were you thinking of?”

“Pacifica.”

“Your favourite restaurant.”

“Yes.” Anders folds his arms. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to come.”

“I’ll come on one condition.”

“Like I care whether-”

“You’re not paying for your own celebration dinner,” Mike interrupts gruffly. “Now go get the other two.”

Anders looks surprised, then wary, then pleased. “Really?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Okay then.”

Dinner is one of the rare good times they’ve shared since Elisabet’s desertion. Anders’s relaxed and laughing, Ty and Axl are happy to be having a nice meal out with their brothers. It’s Mike who’s quieter without realising it, thinking hard.

The others don’t notice.


	2. Chapter 2

About a week later, Mike invites Val over for dinner. He has to hammer on Anders a bit to make sure he turns up, but when dessert is served everyone’s there, all five of them.

“So what’s this about?” says Val. “Hang on, Axl. Yes I’ll give you the biggest piece.”

“I have an announcement.” Mike takes a deep breath. “We’re moving to Auckland.”

Val pauses with the serving spoon halfway to Axl’s plate. The pudding falls onto the table with a wet splat.

“What?” says Anders sharply.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and it makes heaps of sense. Anders is –”

“Couldn’t you have given us a heads-up at least?” says Ty. “You can’t just make big decisions like that and _tell_ us instead of asking us.”

Mike looks at Val. She’s just staring back at him, the spoon still hovering in midair. He finds he has to look away, but when he does he catches Anders’s narrowed gaze by accident, and Anders glances at Val, who’s still staring at Mike.

Afraid Anders is reading him all too well, Mike turns his attention back on a glowering Ty.

“Shut up and listen,” says Mike. “Anders is going up there to study.”

“How is that even a factor?” interrupts Anders.

“I’m not done. I’ve been offered a job there. It’s contract work, but Auckland’s beginning to have more work now, and I’d rather not hang around here and compete with Jim, he did a lot for me. There’s better schools in Auckland for Axl and Ty, and none of us wants to run the farm anyway. It makes sense if we all move up.”

“Couldn’t you have asked first?” Ty says, still mad.

“It makes sense,” repeats Mike. His eyes go back to Val, who’s finally set the spoon down. “Val?”

“Yeah, it makes sense,” Val says. “Don’t you guys want to live someplace else anyway? It’ll be exciting.”

“Really?” says Axl doubtfully. “What about my friends?”

“You’ll make new ones,” says Val, giving him a slice of pudding. “Don’t you want to go exploring more of New Zealand?”

“You’re sure it’ll be fun?”

Ty’s arms are folded. “You can’t keep yanking us around, Mike. We’re older now, we get to have a say in what’s happening in our lives.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Discuss. Why don’t you want to go?”

It catches Ty off-balance, and he flounders a bit. “That’s not the point.”

“You only have a couple of years of high school left, Ty,” Val says. “Auckland will give you more choices in your future.”

“But I don’t want to change schools,” says Axl.

“But you’ll have a new house,” says Val. “Won’t you, Mike?”

Between them, Mike and Val eventually talk Axl and Ty over. Ty was okay once he got over what he called Mike’s dictatorship, which Mike ignored. Axl got excited over the pictures Val painted for him, new classmates and new rooms and he’d get to choose his new bed too, right Mike? Of course Axl could choose his new bed.

“Anders?” Mike says at last. “You haven’t said a thing.” Truth be told he’d rather not ask. He’d expected the most opposition from Anders; he knew Anders wouldn’t like it, to put it mildly, and he hadn’t looked forward to the arguing. Everyone hates arguing with Anders, you invariably lost, and the most annoying thing was you were sure his logic was twisted somewhere, you just couldn’t put your finger on it. But a silent Anders is something new, and Mike isn’t sure which is which is worse.

Everyone’s waiting expectantly. Anders’s arms are folded so tightly they look frozen that way. Val flicks a glance at him before grabbing a serviette and picking up the bits of pudding sticking to Elisabet’s tablecloth.

“When did you start thinking about this?” says Anders.

“I got the job offer a month ago,” says Mike. It’s not a lie, it just isn’t the answer to the question. “It’s a good offer, be at least a year of work. Came from one of Jim’s clients.”

Anders looks around at the others. Ty and Axl are visibly tense, waiting for yet another argument. Val’s still focused on clearing up the mess, and briefly Mike wonders why.

But he’s too busy playing a game.

It’s a gamble he made with himself. Anders could still insist on moving out, kick up a fuss. But Mike’s banking on the fact that there’s a tiny part of Anders that doesn’t want to come right out and say that he wants to ditch the family and move out. Going to uni in Auckland gave Anders an excuse, but he doesn’t have that anymore.

Ullr purrs.

“Whatever,” says Anders. “I’m sure it’ll be glorious fun.”

Only Axl doesn’t catch the sarcasm, but it’s good enough. Ullr throws his head back, drunk on the tiny bit of power he’s been allowed in to use in over a year, and Mike ignores the guilt of using Anders’s better self against him.

He’s kept the family together for a little while more. It’s good enough. For now. 

* * *

Mike walks Val to her car, but she doesn’t get in.

“Why’d you invite me here tonight, Mike?” she asks.

“I wanted you to know.”

“You wanted me to help you persuade the others.”

“Yeah,” he says a bit ruefully. “But I did want you to know, and … you’re … you’re an important part of my life like my brothers are.”

“That’s sweet.”

Shrugging, Mike kicks a stray branch off the driveway. There’s another reason for moving, one he tries not to think about. Val is kind, and loving, and so beautiful sometimes it’s all he can do not to reach out and touch just a strand of her hair, and Rob lies in a white bed in a white room, living without living. Mike’s fault. Mike’s fault.

“You could have told me in private, you know. Not in front of your brothers. I’d be more useful if you hadn’t sprung it on me.”

“I know,” he says. But he was afraid of what else he might say, so instead he told her in a dining room under bright lights with arguments bubbling everywhere.

“Just using me, huh,” she says lightly. “What did I do to deserve you?”

She’s so _good_. Not perfect, definitely not perfect. But good.

“Caught me,” he says, grinning. “It’s not that far anyway, you can come up sometimes. Axl will really miss you, so will Ty. Maybe even Anders too,” he adds for a joke, because Anders doesn’t miss people ever. He’s almost never mentioned Elisabet or Johan ever since they disappeared out of their sons’ lives.

Val’s small smile flickers for a second. “I’ll miss you,” she says, then laughs like it’s a joke. “And everyone. How’s the house-hunting going?”

“Not too bad. There’s a nice place up in the suburbs. Pretty. You’d like it.”

“I’m sure.” Val opens her car door and slides in. “See you, Mike.”

“Any weekend,” he hears himself saying. “Just come on by.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Bye.”

Her headlights disappear into the darkness, but he still doesn’t let himself say _I’ll miss you too_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaand Olaf.

So they pack and pack and pack, trying to sort out the detritus of two decades of family life and put the flotsam and jetsam in boxes.

The day before they’re due to move up, a knock comes on the door. Mike drags himself to the door because it’s too much effort to yell for Axl to get it. Which turns out to be a good thing on hindsight, because standing on the door is …

“Olaf?” he says in amazement.

“Cuz!” says Olaf brightly, dropping his bags on Mike’s foot and carefully leaning his surfboard against the wall. “How’s the family?”

“Ow! In a huge mess,” says Mike, taking a step backward to avoid the bear hug. “Where have you been?”

“Here and there, wherever the surf takes me. I had a feeling something was wrong, so here I am despite the amping surf, because I’m great like that. Anything wrong?”

“Yeah, something’s wrong, _grandpa_. Mum shot through about two years ago.”

“Huh,” says Olaf. “See, I was right about something being wrong.”

“Yes, Olaf. You’re also two years late.”

“But I brought extra weed,” says Olaf, then, “Did you call me grandpa?”

“Mum told me.”

“That’s right. You’re twenty-one already, aren’t you?”

“I’m twenty-three!”

“Say that again.”

“I’m. Twenty. Three.”

“No, the grandpa part.” Olaf actually has tears in his eyes. “I’ve waited so long for this day.”

“You could have heard it two years ago if you weren’t so busy rolling around on the beach!”

“Say it again,” begs Olaf. “Please, Mike.”

Mike grits his teeth. “Grandpa. Happy?”

“My grandson!” Olaf wraps his arms around him, and it’s rather like being hugged by a teary, warm bear that smells of sea salt and marijuana. “My precious first little grandson’s all grown up! And a god! Bless you, my child!”

“Oh get off, you’re stoned!”

Olaf only hugs him more tightly. “Not stoned enough that I don’t know when you’re trying to be hurtful to me to avoid facing your feelings, Mike. It’s okay to let your feelings out. Come on. Breathe it in. And out.”

“Let go! Let go!”

“Not until you get in touch with your emotions. And in. And out.”

“I can’t breathe, Olaf!”

“Because you’re emotionally constipated. Let it all out, Mike. I’m here for you. And out. And in, and out …”

“Olaf, I can’t breathe – shit, let me go, this – isn’t – how I want – to die – Olaf – Olaf –”

And so the highly tearful reunion between Baldr and Ullr ends with Mike wheezing on the floor and Olaf trying to help by stuffing a doobie in his mouth.

* * *

After Olaf's dumped his stuff in Johan and Elisabet's old room, hugged everyone with or against their will and dug a genuine laugh out of Anders, Mike drags him into the shed.

"Ease up, Mikkel. I didn't even get a sandwich. Didn't Johan teach you how to treat guests?"

"He was too busy forgetting to teach us about gods. Olaf, Anders's 21st is coming soon and I've been worrying about it. How am I supposed to tell him when I don't know anything about god stuff?"

"You'll pick it up as you go along," says Olaf, wandering around the shed. "By the way, I need a safe place to store my weed. Axl probably shouldn't be getting into it and I won't have Anders stealing my entire stash."

“You’ve _got_ to be here, Olaf. I don’t know what to do. Mum gave me a few instructions then she disappeared to become a tree. What if I mess it up? What if I don’t put the stones in the right way, or it’s not a perfect circle, or it’s the wrong place, and Anders gets fried by the lightning bolt instead of being turned into a god? You _have_ to be here for Anders’s 21 st.”

“Only if you call me grandpa again,” says Olaf agreeably.

“Olaf, this is too important to muck around with! You have to promise!”

“And I will,” says Olaf like Mike’s three, “once you call me grandpa one more time.”

“Olaf!”

“Yes, Mikkel?”

“Fine! Grandpa!”

“Bless you, Mikkel,” Olaf says fondly. “Now what was it you wanted to know? I’m family oracle, by the way, so lay your questions on me.”

“Oracle?”

Olaf spreads his long arms grandly. “As Baldr, I am also the grand recipient of a long line of oracles, with oral traditions stretching centuries back. I am the keeper of the secrets of the gods, the delver into mysteries of mythology, the knower of a lot of things, and also a person with plenty of connections to get some excellent weed. Ask away, grandson.”

“I need to know how to perform the ceremony properly. Mum gave me the sword and told me to keep it safe, but I don’t know much else. How does it work?”

“Forests are very important to us Norse gods,” says Olaf. “Probably because nobody’s out there to disturb us. When the sprog of a god and goddess turn twenty-one, they too become a god. For us male gods, we place the stones in a rough circle – they’re from Asgard – hold up the sword, and the lightning bolt turns us into an immortal.”

“Does that mean we live forever?”

“Nope, just me, because I’m Baldr the reborn. Immortal’s kind of inaccurate, but it distinguishes us from mortals. And rule number one of being a god, Mike,” says Olaf, turning serious, “is to never tell a mortal.”

“Mum said not to, but I thought that was more about people wanting to stick us on talk shows and make us perform, stuff like that.”

“Bad shit happens if you do.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re an oracle.”

“It’s different every time, but it’s always bad. Mortals _cannot_ be mixed up in god business. Not even those who will eventually become gods. You can’t tell your brothers, Mike. You could be risking their lives. It’s just how the universe works.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Wow.” Mike takes a deep breath, grateful beyond words that he hasn’t told anyone. At first it was because it was fun to watch Anders and Axl getting mad when he won every game of Monopoly. Afterwards it was because he was ashamed of how he’d landed Rob in a hospital bed.

Olaf nods. “You haven’t told them, right?”

Mike drops into a chair. “Olaf,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“I – do you remember Rob?”

“Vaguely. Tall guy, girlfriend?”

“Val. He’s – he’s in a coma.” Mike rubs his forehead. “I mean, it’s not a coma, it’s a persistent vegetative state. He’s been that way for one and a half years.”

“How did that happen?”

“Mum said Ullr would be useful to help me take care of the rest. I was out gaming a lot with Rob. We were in a bar … I challenged a few guys to a pool game. They didn’t like losing. They went for me. Rob tried to stop them and he … he got hurt.” Mike can’t raise his gaze from the table. Guilt washes over him, hot and bitter and fresh as the day he saw his mate’s blood soaking into the pool table.

“Sounds exactly like the kind of thing the universe loves to provide,” says Olaf somberly. “Sorry about your mate.”

“He tried to stop me, Olaf.” Mike’s never said this to anyone, not even Val. He couldn’t bring himself to. But Olaf’s different. Olaf doesn’t have grief-stricken eyes, and he understands about Ullr. “Rob told me to back off, let them win, but I was high on winning and I wouldn’t stop.”

“God spirits can twist us.” Olaf claps him firmly on the back. “Look at your dad. God of the sea – he’s never at home much. I’m surprised he even stayed as long as he did.”

“Yeah, big ups to him.”

“So what did you do after that?”

“I haven’t been using Ullr since,” says Mike. “If using him makes bad things happen to the mortals around me, I can’t use him.”

“That’s no good either, Mikkel. You are Ullr and Ullr is you. Denying your god powers is denying a huge part of yourself.”

“I can’t, Olaf!” Mike leaps to his feet, pacing restlessly around the room. “Every time I see Rob lying in that bed, the guilt eats me alive. To go out and do the same things I used to do with him, go partying, enjoying myself, gambling again? I can’t do that! Not when Rob is still unconscious. The doctors say he may never wake up, but Valerie won’t ever give up. I’ve ruined her life too. They were engaged, did you know that? I wrecked my two best friends’ lives! All because I wouldn’t pull my head in!”

“So if your mate never wakes up, you’re going to stop yourself from enjoying life because of one mistake you made when you were twenty-one?” says Olaf, shaking his head.

“Some mistakes are unforgiveable,” Mike says hopelessly.

“Does Valerie hate you?”

“No. She should. Especially …” _Especially if she knows how I feel about her. I’m such a tool._

“Then you have to learn not to hate yourself.”

“Easier said than done.”  


Olaf sighs.

* * *

Their long lost grandfather hangs around for nearly a week, helping them pack – although half his efforts include eating them out of house and home. Still, it’s good having him around. Aside from finally having someone who knows about gods around, Olaf’s reasonably capable of moving big boxes of stuff with minimal supervision. Mostly Mike sics Axl on him to make sure Olaf isn’t quietly getting stoned in the bathroom, especially when Olaf’s supposed to be driving.

Excluding the time when Mike luckily catches them just in time and threatens Olaf with serious bodily harm if he ever again tries bribing Axl with weed not to tattle, it works out pretty well. Olaf only sulks for a few hours, muttering about ungrateful rude grandsons until Ty’s smart enough to bring him a sandwich or five.

Anders isn’t too much help, sorting his stuff out and nothing else. He’s not happy about the family moving up with him. Mike knows this, but if Anders isn’t saying anything he won’t either. It’s probably for the best.

When at last everything’s moved in and they’ve got the most important things unpacked, Olaf announces that he’ll be leaving tomorrow, he’s dying for a good surf. It’s for the best, Mike seriously can’t afford to feed him anymore, but it’s comforting having him around.

Surfboard in hand, Olaf shoves his bag in his car. “Glad everything’s sorted, Mike,” he says. “Need anything, you give me a call, okay?”

“How? What’s the number of wherever you’re staying?”

“I don’t know,” admits Olaf. “I move around a lot. It just sounded like a nice thing to say.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Thanks, grandpa.”

Closing the boot, Olaf takes a bite out of a sandwich and slides into the driver’s seat. “That’s it, then.”

“You’ve got our address and phone number? You have to remember to come back for Anders’s 21st, okay? Seriously, Olaf, you’ve got to be there to help me. Next June. Promise, Olaf!”

“Somewhere in my pocket, and yes I’ll be there. Relax, Mikkel! It’s like you think I’m irresponsible.”

“I wonder why.” Mike steps back and swings the car door shut. “See you, Olaf.”

“Keep watching those kids. Bye, Mike.”

Mike slams the door and waves goodbye to his grandfather. As Olaf drives off, he calls back, “I’m sure you’ll do fine even if I’m not there!”

“Olaf!” nearly howls Mike, tearing after the car, but Olaf toots his horn merrily in farewell and disappears around the bend in a wheeze of smoke.

He’ll be there, Mike tells himself. He won’t bail on them like Dad and Mum did. He’ll be there. Olaf’s not much, but he’s all they’ve got and he’ll be there like he’s supposed to. He won’t let Mike electrocute Anders to death by accident. Everything will be okay.

Right?

When he goes back in, Axl is turning the last box into confetti and demanding Mike let him build a bonfire in the backyard to celebrate. “I’m so sick of boxes,” says Axl, kicking the shreds into a pile and jumping on it spitefully.

“Yeah, we can do that,” says Mike. He looks around. This is their home now. They chose it, they bought it, they moved in. There’s no old spaghetti stain on the carpet where Elisabet threw a plate at Johan. Nobody’s yelling has soaked deep into the walls, simmering and resentful. A new start. Ty’s insisting that Axl will clean up after the bonfire because there’s no way he’s doing it, and Axl’s arguing that everyone will enjoy it so everyone should help. Mike smiles.

But he looks down the hallway, and Anders’s face is in shadow as he tosses his last box at Axl’s feet. Anders catches his glance for a moment, then goes into his room and closes the door.


End file.
